


Pencil Game

by tjstar



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Band, Boys Kissing, Cute, Friendship/Love, M/M, Supernatural Elements, Teenagers, charlie-charlie challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 20:39:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4319838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjstar/pseuds/tjstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete and Patrick play ‘Charlie-Charlie’ pencil game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pencil Game

**Author's Note:**

> i know, this ‘charlie-charlie’ thing is pretty old but anyway

Tree branch knocks at the window, almost crashing the glass; it’s a stormy rainy evening, and it’s a great time to do something _interesting_. For example — sex. Or a satanic ritual.

Probably, for the first time in his life Pete decides to use his bedroom not for a predictable  _romantic_   thing; he has some plans about Patrick, but he just sits on his bed and looks at Patrick with puppy eyes. The wind is getting harder, and window frame begins to creak; that makes Patrick even more nervous.

It’s Friday the 13th, and he is a pretty superstitious kid.

“It’s just stupid, Pete,” he says, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

“Exactly. Nothing will happen, don’t be scared,” Pete replies, crawling closer to Patrick, who is ready to give up. Really, Wentz’s brown eyes can work miracles.

“Nothing? What’s the fun in that?” Patrick asks. He doesn’t know much about that ‘Charlie-Charlie’ thing, but hey — Pete brought him into his bedroom _to play_.

Suddenly the thunder kinda messes up their conversation, and then the room fills up with awkward silence.

“Come on, Trick!  We’ll just burn pencils and paper after the game,” Pete punches Patrick’s shoulder slightly, and Patrick sighs.

“Anyway, it’s your house. If the ghost will appear, I hope he’ll be chasing you forever,” Patrick laughs, and Pete rushes to his table, searching for pencils and an album sheet.

Two teenage boys in an empty house are going to evoke the spirit: oh no, it doesn’t look like something from bad horror movie.

Pete takes the white sheet and draws two lines on it, crosswise. He writes ‘yes’ in the first quarter, ‘no’ in the second, ‘no’ in the third, and ‘yes’ in the fourth. Patrick is still sitting on the bed like he’s bored, Pete starts feeling dumb, and he thinks maybe it’s really stupid. He places pencils on the lines, similarly crosswise, and everything is ready for the call to the ghost.

“Let’s finally do this, my mom will come home at ten,” Pete hurries, and Patrick jumps out of the bed and stands next to him.

The rain keeps pouring, and apparently, there’s the new Noah’s Flood captures the street; Patrick thinks he will need a kayak to swim home tonight. But then he remembers that an evil spirit will possibly kick his ass, and it’s all getting much less funny.

Pete snaps his fingers with a huge grin on his face and says the /magic/ words.

“Charlie, Charlie are you here?” he gives his friend a sign to join, and Patrick clears his throat.

“Charlie, Charlie are you here?” they repeat in unison, and suddenly Pete feels Patrick’s sweaty palm clenching his own hand.

Nothing.

“Maybe, the line is overloaded?” Patrick jokes, wiping palms on his jeans.

“Maybe,” Pete shrugs. “Let’s repeat it once again, and then fuck it all.”

If the storm can cause interference on some mysterious ghost-line, then it’s exactly that case. Or maybe, that Charlie guy is just busy right now.

“Charlie, Charlie are you here?” their voices sound hoarse. Pete’s pretty sure that in Patrick’s eyes he looks like an idiot, and it’s not so optimistic. Then he hears _something,_ but it’s not a thunder or sounds of rain, no — it’s _something different_.

He glances at Patrick who points at pencils wordlessly; the top pencil starts to stir, and it’s noticeable, because the tip without eraser shifts to ‘yes’. Usually ‘yes’ means _‘yes’_  , but when you’re trying to talk to some intangible essence using pencils, this ‘yes’ may mean that your friend just slightly moved the table.

But Patrick looks surprised.

“Ask him something,” Pete whispers.

“Why me? It’s your house,” Patrick argues. He has no desire to continue this shitty entertainment, and he doesn’t enjoy it.

“I don’t know, you’re cute,” Pete smirks. “He won’t touch you.”

Patrick rolls his eyes. Pete always just flirts and teases, and it irritates him as hell.

“Charlie, are you going to… um… hurt us?” Patrick asks, and they both make a few steps away from the table, for the purity of the experiment.

The pencil sways and then picks ‘yes’ again.

“Oh fuck,” Pete laughs, because he doesn’t believe in this bullshit, but Patrick hesitates like he does.

Pete’s distrust collapses when something hits the floor in the living room very hard. Oh fine. The ghost is here or what the hell?

“Um, it’s enough I guess,” Patrick manages to say before another thunder strike shakes the house, and the light in Pete’s room goes off.

There’s pitch darkness, and Pete feels Patrick’s warm body pressing against him. Patrick pulls his cellphone out of the pocket and uses the screen as a flashlight; he jumps to the table and with the phrase _‘Thanks Charlie’_ breaks the pencils and tears the sheet of paper apart.

No communication with the spirit means no problem, right?

“We need to burn this shit right the fuck now,” Pete hisses, hearing some unpleasant noises from the stairs, living room and kitchen. “Trick, do you have a lighter?”

“No! I don’t even smoke!” Patrick answers, trying to light the room up with his phone; Pete does the same, but it’s not working well, and they can’t see anything but each other.

Pete has a lighter in the pocket of his denim jacket, but the jacket hangs in the wardrobe near the front door. He doesn’t want to leave the room, because the noises are really creepy, and Patrick’s heavy breathing behind his back makes the things just worse.

But Pete doesn’t want to show himself as a coward in front of Patrick much more than he doesn’t want to leave the room.

“We need to find my lighter, and it will be over,” Pete decides, peering out the door cautiously. If he does not break his leg on the stairs, he’ll catch the lighter, and it all will be fine. Patrick follows him; silently, boys come down the stairs and cross the living room. It’s almost done, but some strange things happen.

Pete notices a big shadow and drops his phone, grabbing Patrick’s hand and knocking his glasses off by an accident. Pete and Patrick are trying to run for a front door and find Pete’s jacket-pocket-lighter, but they fall after literally two steps. And then…

The light turns on, and it’s brighter than usual,  _but it’s just the ceiling lights_.

Pete finds himself lying on top of Patrick almost nose to nose; he knows he has to run and take the lighter, but Patrick’s so comfy…

“Oh no,” Patrick pushes him. “Only after the wedding,” he mumbles, and Pete rolls off of him, giggling.

The glasses are broken; lenses are smashed, and Patrick sighs sadly, guessing that his mom will kill him, because it’s his third broken glasses at this month. Yeah, he’s such a clumsy person.

The boys make their way to the wardrobe, and Pete snatches the lighter out of his jacket’s pocket. He isn’t sure whether they should burn the pencils, but Patrick nods.

Going back to Pete’s room, Patrick stumbles on the stairs, cursing. Pete doesn’t let him fall, holding his upper arm.

“Sorry about your glasses,” Pete apologizes; his voice sounds guilty. “Do you need my help?”

“I’m not blind,” Patrick responds. “My eyesight is just… Not very good.”

Actually, his eyesight is terrible, but Patrick doesn’t want to complain and goes upstairs /slowly/ without any help.

While Pete’s burning the fragments of pencils and paper, Patrick’s looking at the window. The rain stops, there are small bright stars in the evening sky, and it’s pretty romantic.

“We’re like Ghostbusters today,” Pete chuckles, turning to Patrick.

“I think it’s all just because of the stormy weather,” Patrick smiles. “But yeah, we are Ghostbusters.”

“You said ‘after the wedding’, it’s a joke, I know, but… Can I kiss you?” Pete asks, noticing how cute Patrick is when he blushes.

Instead of answering, Patrick wraps his arms around Pete’s waist and kisses him; his lips are soft, and his tongue slides timidly into Pete’s mouth, but then he finds the confidence and deepens their kiss.

If that Charlie ghost is still here, he probably envies.

Pete’s phone rings in the living room, but he doesn’t move away from Patrick, looking at the wall clock. His mom will home at ten, and it’s just 9:15, and it means that he and Patrick have amazing forty-five minutes.

**Author's Note:**

> boys are no older than fifteen in this fic so it’s all awkward ^^  
> \----  
> you can tell me about any mistakes/strange things


End file.
